


Hunger

by shinsays



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, M/M, theres a fight in the beginning so minor violence warning i suppose, yeah babey it's nonsensical rambling hours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29924226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinsays/pseuds/shinsays
Summary: People learn to satisfy themselves in other ways, he explains, in battle or feasting, any way to replicate their living days in even more splendor.
Relationships: Asterius | The Minotaur/Theseus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 40





	Hunger

**Author's Note:**

> hello i just want to slap some disclaimers on this bad boy and say
> 
> 1) this is my first hades fic please be nice. also i don't write very often it's been almost a year since i last wrote and published anything.  
> 2) this has no plot. like it's just words. i wrote 90% at this at who-knows-what-o'clock in the morning while half awake so it's just me rambling about theseus rambling. the thing we all love and cherish.
> 
> so uh enjoy!

_Hunger._

It’s the most visceral form of wanting. A breathless, searing form of desire, need, unsatisfied at times. It flickers in the King’s eyes as he swings his spear in a wide arc, catching the unfortunate challenger on its side with a grunt. They stumble away clumsily, trying to regain its bearings, barely dodging the heavy battle axe cleaving down upon its head.

The crowd roars, and the King readies his spear again, throwing his head back in a hearty laugh that seems to reverberate through the arena as much as the battle does. When he turns to face Asterius, his eyes are shining bright with _hunger_ , hunger for battle.

Asterius had known a hunger, once. Raw and ugly, gnawing at him (literally) for decades in the endless dark.

_(Shaking hands dropping their torches, his own shadow casting a grim sentence over terrified faces.)_

But the King’s, _Theseus’_ , is not a dark, bloodthirsty hunger, but more of a thirst for glory. Honor. The feeling of adrenaline in his veins and ache in his muscles. Life, not survival. This is where he thrives best, Asterius finds, this is where he’s most happy. A shield gleams in the light. Asterius charges.

When Asterius clashes into the shield, the entire arena shakes, shockwaves bouncing the shade straight into a well-aimed spear throw, and the fight is over.

The King laughs again, loud and bright and clear, and moves to stand at Asterius’ side, calling out, “They _love_ us, Asterius!”

And they do. Shades are shaking their banners in the stands, chanting their names in practiced unison. The King grasps Asterius’ forearm and lifts so their arms are raised, together they are victorious, they are champions.

_(There is no such thing as heroes here in the endless darkness, here we are equals, here we are simply alive.)_

The King, Theseus, is chattering away as they exit the arena together, once in a while glancing up at Asterius, bright eyes still shining but now sated, content, satisfied. The lucky cut that the challenger clipped on his face is already beginning to heal.

Asterius murmurs a response that he doesn’t remember, and Elysium takes them through its meadows of solitude. Theseus’s conversation winds along with the path they walk through mossy glades and forests of crumbling statues. He talks of the previous fights, analyzing split-second moments that only he could’ve picked up on during the rush of everything, _Ah, well, if I had done this earlier instead, maybe I would have spared you so many jabs in the meantime, my friend!_ Asterius tells him that it does not matter, and they had won together regardless, but Theseus brushes him off.

“It’s good to know your faults before your enemies do, dearest Asterius!” He exclaims to the open space in front of him. “It’s essential, even! If we are to hold our titles as champions, we find ways to always improve our techniques faster than our opponents can!”

“Sure.” He meant more so that he did not mind being hit very many times by challengers, but he doesn’t point it out.

Eventually they reach a spot Theseus deems suitable to pause their leisurely walk, a clear patch of grass and moss and a single tree overlooking the Lethe. He continues to babble, even as he settles down to lie in the grass, still gesturing towards the sky. Asterius sits next to him, watching the butterflies mill about, letting his thoughts wander further.

_(The light had been blinding, at first. He isn’t sure if he will ever get used to it, shielding his face with a hand for several long moments. The man in front of him is patient, allowing him to adjust as he talks and talks, does he ever stop talking? He tries to grasp on to every word, as if it will be his last time hearing them.)_

“Asterius,” a calloused hand wrapping around his wrist pulls him from his thoughts. He looks down, sees Theseus grinning up at him from the grass. A butterfly settles on a flower close to his face.

“You haven’t been listening to anything that I have been saying, have you?” Theseus asks, though it’s lighthearted and amused and there’s the familiar twinkle in his eyes of _something_ that Asterius is still unable to name quite yet.

Asterius huffs, murmurs an apology, but Theseus just laughs, as loud as ever even to the empty chamber. His hand shifts where it grasps his arm, fingers carding idly through short fur, a gesture so gentle and calming coming from the usually-so-outspoken king. “That is all right, my friend! I will simply just tell it to you again, yes?”

“Of course, my king.”

“Good!” Theseus pauses his hand for a moment, eyes searching Asterius’ face for something, before he resumes his idle movements, voice re-launching into a dramatic tale of someone he knew from his living days, a story Asterius is most certain that he’s heard before, but chooses not to comment on. Instead he observes the way that Theseus’ free hand waves about, scattering butterflies and flower petals, the way his eyes seem to brighten when he reaches a particularly exciting moment in his story, the way that the light of Ixion seems to make his hair glow in a way that Asterius is sure must be reminiscent to the Sun that Theseus has told him about before.

_(Hunger doesn’t plague him here, in death, as it had constantly done in life. Part of him finds it relieving. Part of him still yearns for something. The King tells him that you can still eat and drink, and you can still enjoy it as always (Asterius doesn’t ever remember a time where he’s enjoyed it, but the King seems to be dedicating everything to educating him), even if it’s not a necessity here anymore. People learn to satisfy themselves in other ways, he explains, in battle or feasting, any way to replicate their living days in even more splendor._

_“You can be a part of that, too, if you wish.” He had said. An offer. A choice._

_Asterius thinks of the bright sky and laughter and the sweetness of the fruits that the King had insisted that he try for the first time. He thinks of these things and reaches for the King’s outstretched hand.)_

It feels as if years stretch over the time that they lie at the riverbank, Theseus’ words eventually running out of steam, fading with the muted noise of the Lethe. They are not needed anywhere, and there is no rush to leave so soon, sharing a mutual, peaceful silence in their place among the butterflies. Content. Satisfied.

The king is sated here, and so is Asterius, at last.

**Author's Note:**

> i think it's really funny that i wrote a flashback of asterius trying to pay attention to theseus' words and then when it brings you back to real time he's completely ignoring him. also surprise! there's art.
> 
> what do i say here? follow my twitter or something? well thank you for reading, i hope you liked it even if it was just a little bit nonsensical!
> 
> you can find me on twitter @pancakehandz ^__^


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